I drink a lot of whisky. In fact, not having touched a beer in three years, I don’t think a lot quite covers it. Some Saturdays, because of time-zones and my love for rugby, I can start drinking at half past nine and go on all day. So that’s not a lot – that’s a feckload. So I will amend.
I drink a feckload of whisky. Now, we all know drinking (anything, to excess) and driving doesn’t work very well. Earlier this year, I lost a friend after a night out. We all have stories like this. Drinking and driving kills.
That’s why I don’t drive on a night out. If I’m heading to the pub for a drink and a game of pool, that’s fine; I’ll drive. If I head to the pub for a heavy drink-up before a night on the town, I won’t.
For the past year, I’ve been parking my car on Friday after work and not touching it until Monday morning. Honestly, it’s cheaper everytime I take a cab home, because that mitigates the potential loss of 1) the car itself and 2) my actual goddamn life.
There’s also an element of freedom involved. When I have a car outside, I tend to limit myself, knowing I have responsibility. If my car’s at home, and I have a cab or a ride? It’s on, and I can drink as much as I like without giving a shit about whether I walk or crawl out (so to speak).
Now, this isn’t for y’all who don’t dop, or drink in “moderation”. I’m talking my people, my guzzlers, my hard drinkers, my suicidially alcoholic motherfeckers (who are adults and make their own choices).
If you’re gonna have a drink, by all means, drive. If you’re gonna *fecking* drink, leave the car and take a cab.